Nine Lives And Then Some
by silver ruffian
Summary: Next time, Dean decided as he licked his paws, I really gotta stop with the smart ass remarks. 4 chapter fic. Completed.
1. Dean

_**A/N:**_ For Phoebe. You know why. Hope this makes you feel better. A bokor is a Haitian witch doctor.

_**Summary:**_ _Next time,_ Dean decided as he licked his paws, _I really gotta stop with the smart ass remarks._ One shot.

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own Dean or Sam. This is for entertainment purposes only, not profit. I may be twisted but I'm not stupid.

* * *

_Next time,_ Dean decided as he licked his paws, _I really gotta stop with the smart ass remarks. _

_Forty eight hours, boychick. Forty eight hours, and then you can go back to your body and your brother. Next time don't mouth off to a bokor, hunter monkey boy. The rest of my people aren't as nice as I am. _

Dude might have had a point. Then too, this particular bokor was a former acquaintance of John Winchester, had even helped Dad out on a couple of jobs. So maybe Dean saying that the dude bore an uncanny resemblance to actor Chris Tucker in drag (_The Fifth Element_, nappy pompadour and skin tight leopard skin dress) might _not_ have been the smartest thing to say.

Dean could imagine John Winchester up in Heaven, laughing his ass off.

It could have been worse. Dean had to keep telling himself that.

The lady of the house called him Tucker. Funny name, but what the hell. Dean figured that instead of changing his human body into a Siamese cat, the witch doctor had simply pulled Dean's mind out of his body and dropped him into the nearest feline. This…_Tucker_.

Turns out his hostess for the next forty eight hours was named Paige. She was really nice, but Dean had to admit that that for the first six hours he acted like a total ass. Kept rubbing up against her, demanding to know who she was and where he was, and why she didn't have to go to work, and ooh, was that a catnip mouse over there?

Dean got easily distracted.

Plenty of things to be distracted about. Yarn and string toys, and oh, shiny!stuff that was just begging to be batted around and nipped at. Scratching posts, and man, that stretch in his lower back felt damned good when he sunk his claws in up high, dipped his back down low and just stretched. There were plenty of windows to sit in, and even if he couldn't pry her away from that damn computer it was worth it just to slink in, meddle with her, and then slink back out, grinning.

He checked out his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Okay, so his eyes weren't green anymore. They were blue now. Still and all he was a pretty handsome fella. Sleek, athletic. Ears like Batman. Dean had to admit that the feline face was well suited to smirking. So he did. A lot.

Another thing was, the food wasn't half bad. He chowed down on dry food, which was okay, but he really liked the canned food better. It was juicier, and he loved the salmon.

That was a surprise, 'cause when he was human Dean hated salmon with a passion. It was the most hated of fishes, and human Dean wouldn't have touched the damn stuff on a bet. Catfish he actually liked, either fried, baked, or in nugget form, but he never let Sam know that. Dean Winchester had a rep to uphold, and that rep involved red meat, _not_ fish.

He thought he'd died and gone to heaven when he slunk into the kitchen and Paige gave him several pieces of rotisserie chicken, BBQ, to be precise.

Dean blinked at her, long and slow, as he rubbed up against her ankles. _I think I'm in love._

* * *

There was another cat there, another Siamese named Rollie and the old boy wasn't feeling too well. Dean might have been an insensitive jerk a lot of the time (he reveled in his jerkiness sometimes, actually) but he got it. He was gonna give Rollie a break.

Rollie busted him right from the start.

"Mouthed off to the wrong person, huh, kid?" Rollie drawled lazily. Dean flinched and immediately started furiously licking his left paw, then he scowled. Well, scowled as much as that sweet little Siamese face would let him.

"How the hell did you ---"

Rollie laughed. "Cats got mojo, monkey boy. You oughta know that." He shrugged. "We're the Guardians of the afterlife, got one paw in heaven and hell. You're not the first one to get dropped into ol' Tucker's body like that."

Dean had a sudden vision of his human body on all fours back at the motel room. Hissing. Sam was backed into a corner, staring wide-eyed. "Wh-where does Tucker go when this happens?" Dean stammered, slightly google-eyed himself.

Rollie shrugged. "Beats the hell outta me, sonny. That's one of life's unsolved mysteries."

Dean smirked. "I don't suppose you'd know if there are any, ah, lovely young lady cats next door I could meet?"

Rollie burst out laughing. He laughed so hard he started choking. Dean came over and patted him on the back with his right paw.

"Forget it, kid," Rollie finally managed to say. "Number one, you're an indoor cat. Second thing is, you're fixed."

Dean deflated.

Rollie smirked. "But being able to lick your own balls is still pretty damned sweet."

Dean snorted.

Rollie seemed like an okay guy, even though he was a cat, so Dean sat down and they talked a little. Rollie talked about his life and how good it had been, told Dean where the best toys were that he'd hidden from Tucker (behind the couch and the stove) and yeah, those squirrels next door needed to be taught a lesson. Dean told Rollie about some of the best hunts he'd ever been on, and the old boy listened all wide-eyed, until he yawned and stretched, rolled over, closed his eyes and started snoring.

Dean took the hint. He retired to the kitchen window, where he spent the next few hours talking smack and making very loud death threats to the pigeons next door.

* * *

On the evening of the second day Dean sat in the window watching that damn squirrel on the next door neighbor's back porch. He felt a tingle all over his body.

_Time's up, smartass. Hope you learned your lesson this time._ The bokor sounded amused. _Your brother's about to have kittens. Excitable boy._

Dean started talking then, only it came out as meows and chirps and growly sounds. He wanted to say goodbye to Paige, wanted to tell her not to beat herself up for Rollie being sick, wanted to say goodbye to Rollie.

Too late. The next thing Dean knew he was back in that godawful motel room, the one with the friggin' pink and yellow teddy bear wallpaper. It immediately reminded him of that fabric softener bear, and as he laid there blinking up at Sam Dean wondered why he hadn't hunted that little bitch down by now.

He was on his back (_bed_, Dean thought hazily) and there was Sam (_Sasquatch needs a haircut_). When Sam saw Dean's eyes blink open there was a moment of relief on the kid's face.

That all changed in a hurry.

"Dean—" Sam said sternly. The corners of his mouth turned downward. Dean knew the drill. Dean didn't want to hear it. He was happy to be back, but Sam was gonna spoil the whole damn thing with that bitchface of his. There was only one thing to do.

Dean purred, reached up and licked Sam on the face.

-30-


	2. Tucker

_**A/N:**_ You guys are going to have to wait a little longer for Sam's POV. Tucker came first.

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own Dean, Sam, or Bobby. This is for entertainment purposes only, and not for profit.

* * *

_Damn_, Tucker thought. _Not again._

He couldn't make the purr sound, but that didn't really matter 'cause he really didn't feel like purring. This big shaggy haired human male was in the room with him, staring wide-eyed at him. Tucker knew the drill, knew he couldn't carry on a conversation with this shaggy monkey boy like he really wanted to.

_Forty eight hours,_ the bokor whispered inside Tucker's head. _Forty eight hours to teach this Dean human a badly needed lesson in manners, and then you can go home. You honor me with your cooperation in this matter, precious feline._

Tucker huffed. _Cooperation my furry ass,_ he grumbled back. The bokor ignored him. They never asked, they just pulled him out and he woke up like this whenever they needed him.

The human's eyes narrowed, and then he was saying things like "told you not to say anything bout the dress the bokor was wearing, Dean, I told you, but would you listen to me, oh no," and Tucker cringed a little just then, cause it was all just sounds coming out of that mouth, and the human sounded mad, looked mad, and when they sounded and looked like that the hitting usually started.

Tucker hated that part.

So he started hissing. He started hissing and he flopped down off the bed and he moved forward on all fours, even though his legs and arms bent the wrong way, and this body was way too big and his teeth were way too small, but the hissing and growling sounded very impressive, even coming out of a human's throat.

Tucker had to admit he really liked the way the human's eyes got wide, so he kept on hissing, until he backed the shaggy one into a corner. Tucker kept making the sounds until he got bored because the human just stood there, wide-eyed, and that was no fun. Running and screaming or even squeaking like one of his toys would have been more entertaining. But the human didn't run or squeak or squeal. Boring.

So Tucker sat down and started licking himself.

"Dean?"

Tucker ignored him.

"Dean?"

That wasn't his name. Tucker wanted to lay his ears back but they were too small, on the sides of his head and he couldn't move them anyway. He was nervous so he licked at his hand, and even the tongue didn't feel right, but the action soothed him a little, so he kept on licking.

The first time this ever happened the human's female chased him all over the house with a broom while Tucker was in that body. He couldn't dodge and run as fast as he usually could and it hurt getting smacked like that.

Tucker remembered that the things on his body were clothes, so he licked at his hand, over and over again. This tongue was all wrong, too smooth, and he didn't have any fur on this body. He couldn't lick his balls, either. He really wanted to.

And his nails were too short and there weren't any scratching posts around. There never were.

There was one place in Paige's place that Tucker always went to, and that was the bathroom. He took his purple rubber ball in there and played hockey in the bathtub. It was a fun place, and now Tucker got bored, so he went into the bathroom to take a look around.

Big Shaggy locked the door behind him. That didn't bother Tucker at first.

He pulled himself up on the wash basin and looked at himself in the mirror. Huh. He was a human male, alright. Everything was bigger, but it didn't work right. Tucker cocked his head to one side and blinked those big green eyes of his at his reflection.

Five minutes later Tucker was miserable. Five minutes later Tucker wanted _out_. He talked about it, and his voice came out all deep and wrong. Tucker yowled and ohed and oowed and chirped and rrowred, and it wasn't his fault that shaggy hair couldn't understand him.

After talking for ten minutes straight Tucker got quiet and listened. On the other side of the door he heard the shaggy one say the word "Bobby". It sounded like "Rollie" for a moment, but it wasn't.

Sometime later Tucker got sleepy and climbed into the bathtub. He curled up and took a nap.

He'd sleep it off. That was it. He'd sleep it off and he'd be back in his body in no time. He'd open his eyes and there would be Rollie in his bed, and Paige on the computer, and he'd be a cat again. That was all he really wanted. He'd go to the kitchen window and curse out those squirrels next door because they really, really needed it.

And Tucker would act all casual about the whole body swap thing when he got around Rollie, because Rollie would laugh at him if he knew he was being such a big baby about the whole thing.

* * *

Didn't get any better when Tucker woke up.

There was another man there, an older one. Tucker knew what that thing on the other human's head was. It was a baseball cap. Both the young one and the old one stared at Tucker when he woke up, and the older one stared so hard that Tucker got nervous.

And he had to pee.

And there was no litter box in the room.

This part of the story is better left unsaid.

Tucker squalled like a newborn kitten when they held him underneath the shower.

Damn humans.

* * *

They dried him off and dressed him again in those people skins. He didn't like it but he let them; Tucker was feeling kind of numb right then. He missed Paige. He missed Rollie. He missed his toys and his scratching posts.

The old human and the big young one fed him. That was a plus. They didn't hit or yell at him. Two more pluses. Tucker nibbled at the hamburger bun, but he ate the meat. The fries were fun to play with, and the two humans just sat and watched when he batted the fries around with his hands.

The big one leaned forward, put his hands in his face and sighed.

The old one shook his head. "Don't worry about it, Sam. Damn bokor said two days. We're one down already."

Tucker stayed on the bed, on his hands and knees, wouldn't sit at that table like they wanted him to. Sitting that way felt funny, and he yowled so loud they stopped trying to force him pretty quick. Besides, Paige let him sleep on the bed when he was home. He wasn't about to stop now.

Tucker licked himself clean as the young one and the old one watched, then he rolled over on his side. As he went to sleep he heard the two humans talking, heard that name _Dean_ again, but it didn't matter. Tucker chattered in his sleep. His arms and legs twitched. He was four legged again.

He was happy.

* * *

When Tucker woke up later the older human was gone, which was fine by Tucker. The young one sat there and talked. And talked. Tucker didn't understand some of the words, but he got the tone, and the look on the human's face wasn't an angry face. It was sad, but quiet and peaceful, so Tucker felt quiet and peaceful.

There was one food that he really really liked. He made a low sound in his throat. He thought he could say it. _Salmon._ That was it. Maybe if he asked for some salmon this big male human would give him some.

Tucker looked the human in the eyes, cleared his throat, and croaked out, "Sammm."

No, wait. That wasn't quite _right_.

The sound made the big human sad. His eyes got wet, and he moved forward, and Tucker nearly yelped when those big arms slid around him, pulled him close, but it was okay, because a part of him knew that was what Paige did, and even though this was nice, sitting there like that, Tucker really missed Paige.

The nose on this body might have been bigger, but Tucker couldn't smell anything like he could before. The big human patted Tucker on the back, and that was all well and good but as far as Tucker could tell there was no salmon coming. Not in a bowl, a plate, or a can.

"It's okay, Dean. It's okay."

Tucker huffed. _Not Dean_. But this was better than getting hit with a broom.

* * *

The next day got a little better.

They ate. Tucker still didn't care much for using his hands, so he drank milk from a bowl on the floor, and he started purring when Big Shaggy gave him half of a tuna fish sandwich. That was nice.

And later on, when Tucker started fidgeting because there wasn't any litter box, he got up and went to the bathroom on his own. The Sam person helped, and Tucker wondered why his face turned red.

_Very _red.

* * *

Being cooped up inside didn't really bother Tucker all that much. He sat by the window and watched the cars go by, and the view wasn't as nice as it was at home with Rollie and Paige. No grass, no trees, just that highway with the cars and trucks going back and forth. Tucker took another nap, ate the other half of that tuna sandwich, and that was when he noticed the sun was going down.

He was tired all of a sudden. Very tired. He got off the chair and wobbled over to the bed. The Dean boy's body felt way too big for him, bigger than it had before, and Tucker knew it wouldn't be long now.

He wanted to tell the Samm Salmon boy that it was gonna be okay, but he was so tired. Tucker closed his eyes as soon as his head touched the bedspread.

_Thank you for your help,_ the bokor whispered.

Tucker thought some language at him in feline that would be very inappropriate if translated properly.

_This time wasn't bad at all,_ Tucker thought as he drifted off, but he still wished he'd never agreed before birth to do this sort of thing, for Bast's sake. Had to be a law against entering into binding contracts with minors.

He breathed once, then twice, and he couldn't feel his body anymore.

Something tapped him on the head, softly at first, then a little harder.

Tucker opened his eyes.

"Well, if it isn't the world traveler," Rollie drawled softly.

He was back in his own body. Tucker started purring. He flexed his paws and lashed the air with his tail. _Damn._

"So how was it?"

Tucker shrugged. "Not bad."

Rollie laughed. "That Dean kid was a pistol. I think he liked it here."

"Glad somebody did." Tucker huffed. "It wasn't that bad, but I must have been out of my damn mind to agree to this."

Rollie grinned. "There's a loophole I wanna tell you about later. We can look it up on the internet when Paige isn't around. Right now I want all the details, so give. Don't leave anything out and start at the beginning."

So Tucker did.

* * *

Sam's POV will be posted Sunday.


	3. Sam

_**A/N:**_ Yes, I'm late with this one. My bad, guys.

_**Disclaimer:**_ Sam, Dean and Bobby belong to Eric Kripke. This is for entertainment only, not for profit.

_**POV:**_ Sam

* * *

The bokor was an acquintance of Dad's. Didn't mean he was a family friend, just someone that still owed John a favor. Therefore, he owed Sam and Dean a favor.

Sam had to admit, it was hard_ not_ to stare. This bokor, this witch doctor, was the spitting image of Chris Tucker in _The Fifth Element_. Nappy pompadour, skin tight leopard skin dress and all.

Dean laid eyes on the dude, and Sam knew they were in trouble when he saw that mischievous glint spark in Dean's eyes. The corners of Dean's mouth twitched upwards into a smirk.

_Here it comes,_ Sam thought uneasily.

Amazingly enough, the only thing that came out of Dean's mouth was, "Hi. Our dad mentioned you in his journal. Said you could help us out with this hunt."

And that was it. The bokor stared at Dean as though he just knew there was something _more,_ something smartass coming, and Dean just stood there with this too polite, too bright grin pasted on his face.

_Huh._ Sam untensed. The bokor went into a back room to rummage through his stuff for the amulet they'd need to hunt that pugtanee. Sam let out a breath. "Thank God," he whispered. "Dude, I thought you were gonna say something stupid."

At that moment the bokor stuck his head out of the curtain that separated the front room from the rest of the house. He glared at Dean and Dean nodded at him. That fake smile of Dean's got even wider. The bokor disappeared back behind the curtain.

"Give me some credit, Sammy. I'm not gonna piss off somebody we need," Dean said. He was lying through his pretty white teeth.

The bokor came back into the room exactly seventeen minutes later. He handed Dean a large octagon-shaped bronze medallion that looked like something you could buy on ebay. It was about twelve inches in diameter, inscribed with all kinds of symbols that neither Sam or Dean had ever seen before.

"Here. You place this in the center of the graveyard at midnight. The pugtagnee will be compelled to come. It will step onto this amulet and it will be frozen in place. Then you can kill it, salt and burn the damned thing so it will never return."

"Thank you." Sam cast a sideways glance at Dean. It was time to go before Dean said something they'd both regret.

"My debt to your father is fulfilled," bokor San Louise said stiffly.

"Yeah," Dean nodded. He tucked the amulet underneath his arm. "It is. And I wanna say that you look especially fetching today, Miss Tucker. You and Bruce Willis made a lovely couple."

Maybe Dean figured the dude wouldn't catch the movie reference. That was what Sam hoped for exactly five seconds.

Sam hoped in vain.

The bokor's smile was just as bright, just as fake as the one Dean gave him. "Don't let the door hit you on the way out, you rude boy. Good day to you both."

They made it back to the motel the same way they left. Dean was still Dean, hadn't spouted horns or a tail. Dean was still Dean hours later, when they stood in the St. Francis Township cemetery and salted and burned the pugtagnee.

The damn thing bawled like a bitch. Good riddance.

Sam went to sleep dreaming about Bruce Willis, and Chris Tucker in drag. Dean was there, too, but he'd been transformed into Mila Jovanovich, complete with red-haired wig and wearing Ace bandages in strategic places.

Dean/Mila was freaking out about being turned into a "chick."

Sam woke up just as this crew of scaly aliens showed up, bent on mayhem. He could hear Dean moving around the room. Sam opened one eye just in time to see Dean slip on that black t shirt of his, and then his jacket. Dean wasn't a morning person, and the only way he'd drag himself out of bed this early (Sam squinted at the clock – _huh, 7:30_) was if he was hungry. They'd come right back to the motel after they disposed of the pugtagnee. It was obvious Dean wanted his coffee. And a pig 'n' a poke, with a side of bacon. And more hot coffee.

"All right," Sam grumbled. "'m up. 'm up."

Dean didn't answer.

"Dean?"

Dean looked startled, actually wide-eyed, deer in the headlights startled. His eyes were too green, too bright. He backed away from Sam, until the backs of his thighs hit the side of his twin bed. Dean flopped down on the bed, and he stared down at the bed, at himself, as though something was radically wrong.

"Dean? Dude, quit screwing around," Sam muttered. He threw off the sheets and planted both feet on the floor. "I said 'm up."

Dean opened up his mouth and meowed, loud and long.

* * *

"Told you, Dean. I told you not to say anything about the bokor's dress. But would you listen? No. Now look at you, dude---"

Dean cocked his head to one side and glared at him. Sam could swear his eyes got even brighter. Dean hissed, and growled and spat. Apparently this was the feline version of "shut the hell up," Dean Winchester style.

Sam shut the hell up.

Okay, so it wasn't the most dignified way to start the morning, namely backed into a corner by your own smart-ass older brother who'd mouthed off to a Haitian witch doctor and whom said bokor turned into a cat in a human body. Or a human who thought he was a cat. Or a human who was possessed by a cat spirit.

Whatever.

Sam had to admit all that hissing and snarling coming out of Dean's mouth was really impressive. Cat!Dean grumbled, and he yowled, and even when he dropped down on all fours Sam could tell whoever was driving wasn't really used to that body. Still and all, Sam wasn't going to take that chance. He could handle six pounds of enraged feline. An enraged feline inside one hundred eighty pounds of Dean Winchester? Not so much.

So Sam just stood there in the corner. In his underwear. He tried not to shake, and he didn't want to look this critter in the eye. He didn't know if that was the same for cats that it was for dogs. Dean rumbled and he hissed for five more minutes, and then he evidently got bored.

Dean planted his ass on the floor with a thump, raised up his right hand, stared at it for a moment, and then, very daintily, licked his hand.

The only thing Sam could think about was that he had to get a picture of this. Unfortunately, his camera phone was all the way across the room, and he'd have to pass Dean to get it.

So much for that idea.

"Dean?"

Dean ignored him. Just like a cat.

Sam called Dean's name several times, and Dean ignored him the whole time. He didn't even blink at the sound, and the hell of it was that there was no other name Sam could think to call him. Dean might have been somewhere else, but his body was still there. For a moment Sam actually thought Dean was going to break character and start laughing at him. "Dude, you should have seen your face!"

Didn't happen, no matter how much Sam wanted it to.

After a while, Cat!Dean got up on his hands and knees and stalked into the bathroom. It grumbled to itself the whole way, kept looking down at itself and mumbling loudly. This was all kind of weird and unsettling and undignified at first, but he still did it with a certain amount of grace. Dean's grace. The more he moved, the smoother his motion became. Sam wondered where Dean's mind was. Probably in some cat's body somewhere. Either dodging Rotweillers in an alley somewhere, or, knowing Dean, lounging in a sunlit window somewhere.

Sam had always suspected Dean was part cat anyway. He could always make himself at home in the worst places, jail cells, locked basements, abandoned factories and deserted barns.

As soon as Cat!Dean sauntered into the bathroom, Sam ran over and slammed the door shut behind him, even though Sam had to pee.

* * *

"All right," Bobby drawled moments later. "What have you idjits gotten yourself into this time?"

It all came out in a rush of words, about the bokor, and the Fifth Element, and Dean was fine when he woke up but it all went to hell after that, until finally Bobby yelled into the phone "SAM!"

"Huh?"

"Okay. Dean disrespected the bokor, right?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. Sounds like this is a lesson your idjit brother's 'pposed to learn. He's not dead. He's just somewhere else. I'm headed your way. First I'm gonna pay the bokor San Louise a visit, get his side of things, bring him an offering to pacify him. Maybe he'll lift the spell."

"What kind of offering?"

"Don't worry about it. I got it covered. Where's Dean now?"

"Locked him up in the bathroom."

"Good. Keep him there. I'm on my way."

It was the longest three hours of Sam's life.

Cat!Dean apparently had a difference of opinion about the closed door. He scratched at it. He yowled, he grumbled. None of it was words, but Sam could tell Dean was pretty pissed off. It wasn't the sounds, it was the tone. After a while the noises stopped.

Sam felt guilty, so Sam started talking.

"Hey, Dean? Look, I'm…I'm sorry I yelled at you earlier, okay? You just caught me by surprise, that's all. I called Bobby. He's coming. He's gonna talk to the bokor, see if he'll lift the spell."

Sam talked. He talked about the good times he and Dean had as kids. Talked about the hunts they'd been on. He wasn't sure if Dean was listening, but it made Sam feel better. So he kept right on talking until Bobby pulled up.

* * *

Dean sat there on the bed cautiously sniffing at the hamburger and fries on the paper plate. He tilted his head to one side and sneezed noisily. He looked younger. He smelled better. Cats definitely hated water. At least Dean did, and he complained a lot when Sam and Bobby put him underneath the shower spray. This Dean apparently was not toilet trained.

"Well," Sam said wearily, "at least he let us dress him."

Apparently one of the fries needed to be put in its place. Dean lowered his chest and shoulders, pushed his butt up in the air. His rear wiggled from side to side and then he pounced on his prey, rumbling gleefully.

"Huh," Bobby grunted. "I hope this doesn't go on too much longer. Didn't think about bringing a litter box for him." Bobby blinked. "Is he…is he purring?"

"Uh huh."

"Oh." They both sat there and watched Dean as he swatted the French fry into submission, and then went back to daintily nibbling at the hamburger patty.

Sam laughed. "He's got better table manners."

Bobby snort-chuckled. "Talked to the bokor. He won't accept an apology. Says Dean has to learn respect. But it's only for 48 hours. Gave him the offering. Don't know if that did any good. This bokor is known for good magic, as far as I can tell. Your daddy wouldn't have let him live otherwise."

"What was the offering?"

"Twenty pounds of jumbo cooked shrimp and five packages of Hershey's Hugs."

"What?" The look Bobby gave Sam was pointed, so Sam didn't ask about that.

* * *

Dean woke up after Bobby left. He sat up on the bed and stared at Sam, like he was trying to think of something to say. Dean's eyes were a bright, vivid green.

_I want my brother back, _Sam thought to himself. _I do. Warts and all. I'd give anything to hear him at least say my name._

Dean cocked his head to one side. He leaned forward, staring, and that purr got a little louder. "Sammm."

(Now we know that Cat!Dean was really asking for some salmon, but hey, do you really wanna be mean and bust Sam's bubble? I didn't think so.)

Sam was on him in an instant. He swept Dean up into his arms, hugged him tight. "It's okay, Dean. It'll be all right."

"Mmrroaw?" Dean looked puzzled.

"It's okay." Sam hugged him even harder. Dean grunted. "I can ignore it all. The hissing. Having to give you a bath. All of it. If you need to use the bathroom again, just let me know, all right? We're brothers. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you." Sam's eyes got misty. "You're too precious for this world."

"Mmrroaw." Dean sniffed. He looked disappointed somehow.

* * *

The next day wasn't that bad.

Not bad at all.

Dean prowled around the room. Sam talked to him as he fixed breakfast, which happened to be a bowl of milk and half of a tuna sandwich, from the supplies Bobby brought with him the day before. The motel room had one of those half refrigerators, and it was well stocked after Bobby got through.

Dean was content. He was also a little on the loud and bossy side, which was nothing new. After an hour he came and sat beside Sam on Sam's bed. Dean rubbed up against Sam.

Sam started blushing.

Dean purred, a low rumble that rivaled the Impala's engine. He closed his eyes and smiled as he rubbed up against Sam's shoulder.

The tips of Sam's ears went bright rosy red.

At one point Dean tried sitting in Sam's lap.

Sam switched to sitting at the table from then on.

Later on Dean went into the bathroom and started meowing, loud and insistent.

Yeah, there was nothing Sam wouldn't do for him, all right. Sam tried not to stare, but he couldn't help it. Cat!Dean had piss poor aim, no pun intended.

* * *

Later on that day Dean settled down in the window and watched the traffic and the people go by. There weren't that many birds around, and he chattered noisily at the few birds he did see. Bobby emailed Sam, asked him how things were going.

The only thing Sam could think of to say was: "Shoulda gotten that litter box."

Bobby emailed back: LOL. And a smiley face.

Right then Sam hated smiley faces.

* * *

Around dark Dean got up and jumped in the bed. He curled up on his side and he didn't move, not even when Sam went over to the refrigerator and broke out the other half of that tuna sandwich.

"Dean? Hey?"

Dean didn't answer. The hairs at the back of Sam's neck stood straight up.

Forty eight hours. Two days. It was…

Sam walked over to the bed, and he very carefully leaned over his brother. He gently turned Dean over onto his back, Still breathing. Good.

Dean blinked. He took another deep breath, and he blinked again.

Sam could see it, see those wide green eyes fill up again with everything that was _Dean, _everything that was_ human._ Dean's entire body relaxed, then tensed up again, but this was different. This was human, not _feline_. Dean stared up at Sam and Sam felt the muscles in his own face relax.

Dean was_ back_.

_Dean was back and he wouldn't have had to go anywhere if he hadn't opened his big fat mouth in the first place. _

Sam frowned. He opened his mouth, had the lecture all ready: _Glad to have you back bro', but damn, next time you should have kept your damn mouth shut. Do you have any idea what it was like ---_

Sam wasn't fast enough to avoid it. Dean made a deep purring sound, and the next thing Sam knew Dean raised up and licked a stripe up the side of his face.

Sam backed up, planted his ass on the floor with a hard thump.

Dean fell back down on the bed laughing. "Dude, you should see the look on your face! This is priceless. Priceless!" Dean laughed so hard he started coughing.

Then choking.

Sam frowned. "Dean?"

Dean got up and ran into the bathroom. He slammed the door closed behind him. Sam still heard the clank of the toilet seat as Dean threw it up, still heard Dean making these awful hacking sounds.

Sam smirked, even as he wiped Dean's spit off his chin. He still had those pictures in his camera phone, the ones he'd taken of Cat!Dean while he was playing, eating and sleeping.

And Dean had something to remember the whole thing by.

Hairballs.

* * *

There will be an epilogue of sorts to this story, posted Saturday. I appreciate the reviews and story alerts for this little number. I thank you, and my muse thanks you too. Also a shout-out to PADavis, SciFiNutTX, and PlatinumRose Lady for mentioning me and this fic on her webcast. Thank you!


	4. That's Life

_**A/N:**_ Well, folks, this is it. The last chapter of this twisted little tale. You may recognize some diologue from "Mystery Spot" that I adapted for this chapter. I'm a little behind on responding to your reviews, so please bear with me. I appreciate the attention and the support this fic has gotten. I really do. I couldn't have done this without you.

_**POV:**_ Paige, Sam, and Dean

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own Supernatural. This is for entertainment purposes only, not for profit.

* * *

They sat in the diner across the street, while Dean ate.

And ate.

And ate.

"Damn," Dean crowed. "I tell ya, we need to stop by the nearest supermarket and buy one'a those rotisserie chickens."

"Yeah?" Sam couldn't help but smile. "What flavor, Deanna? Herb, BBQ, or lemon pepper?"

Dean shrugged. "Any of 'em. _All_ of 'em. Hell, all the credit cards are good." He dug into his sandwich with even more enthusiasm, and that was when Sam realized something.

"Uh, dude? That's _salmon_."

"Yeah? So?" Dean chewed noisily.

"You _hate_ salmon."

Dean stopped chewing. He peered at the sandwich in his hand, and shrugged. "Today I don't. Maybe tomorrow."

And he attacked the sandwich again.

"Okay," Sam chuckled. "So you were in the body of a Siamese cat."

"Yep. Name's Tucker. Real nice house. Real nice lady. I didn't mind rubbing up against _her _ankles, lemme tell ya," Dean leered. Sam looked slightly nauseous. "There was another cat there. Older dude. Rollie. Not bad for a cat. Said that this happened all the time, that his buddy went somewhere while we swapped bodies."

"Yeah, he did," Sam nodded. "Into your body."

"Damn! I knew it! So how was it?"

"What?"

"How was it? Was it all cool and weird and exotic like it is in the movies?"

Out came Sam's bitchface. "Dean, you peed yourself."

"I --- what? Really?"

"Yep. Bobby and I didn't think about getting a litter box."

"Oh. Litter box? Wait a minute. Bobby and you. Bobby saw---"

"Bobby saw quite a bit. Yeah. We had to strip you down and make you take a shower."

"Well, of course a man's--- I mean a _cat's _-- gonna answer nature's call if there's no litter box around. I mean, come on!"

"Uh huh. And that same man oughta remember that none of this would have happened in the first place if he hadn't mouthed off to a certain Haitian witch doctor."

"That's over. Let's move on." Dean made a hand flap with his left. "Was that the only time he missed the litter box?"

The tips of Sam's ears got even redder. "There was, uh, the next day."

"The next day?"

"I mean, this was a smart cat. He got the concept of the toilet down right away, but he…" Sam's ears went even redder. "He needed help."

Dean leaned forward. "Help?"

"Aiming." Sam huffed. He couldn't look at Dean.

"Oh."

"I…helped him, and he still couldn't hit the bowl."

"Oh."

"Still had better aim than you do."

Dean blinked. "Bitch."

"Jerk."

* * *

Her boys were up to something; Paige knew it for a fact.

She tried not to smile when she was around them. It was hard not to. Tucker was careful to delete the browsing history, but Paige knew he'd been on the computer anyway.

"That's it," she told San Louise and the others. "No more. I'm revoking Tucker's pre-birth body swap agreement."

"It's binding," They whined. They stopped whining when Paige quirked an eyebrow at them. "It's dishonest. You get these idiot little nearly born kittens to sign their lives away, just so you can use them for body swaps. They don't know what they're getting into, and you don't tell them what it's really like."

"But. But ---"

"No buts," Paige snarled. "And no more of _this_. He's _done_, he's _out_. Swap him again and I will end you."

And_ that_ was _that_.

She never let the boys know that she was retired from that life. As far as she was concerned witchcraft was something useful, and she still used it occasionally, but she had it good now. Good and normal. She loved hearing Tucker's voice, loved feeling him rub against her ankles. He had questions and comments about everything. The death threats against the squirrels next door, the snide comments he and Rollie made among themselves whenever she bought the wrong food home from the store.

"Good grief," Rollie said that one time. "She bought the wrong food. It's not juicy enough. We can't eat this. If we do, she'll buy it again."

"But it's food!" Tucker whined.

"Didn't I tell you not to eat that?" Rollie scowled.

Tucker lifted his head up from the bowl. "But…but…IT'S FOOD!"

She especially loved seeing Tucker when he was on a tear. That incident with the stolen tortilla chip was hilarious.

And Rollie? Well, he had his good days and bad days. Same old lovable goof who laid on her arm while she worked and made her feel guilty if she had to move. Paige respected the so-called circle of life, and she knew he'd tell her when he was ready to go. But not yet, apparently. Good for him.

Some of the folks that inhabited Tucker's body were idiots, plain and simple. One of them decided to have sex with her leg, and another one was so freaked out that she had to lock the poor thing in the bathroom for the entire two days.

He sat by the door and whined and moaned the entire damn time. Paige felt so guilty that afterwards she went out and got a pound of cooked E-Z peeled shrimp and didn't care if Rollie and Tucker gorged themselves all night long.

That should have been the last time. Wasn't. It was good to go out on a high note, though.

That Dean Winchester? A natural born feline.

He was the best of the lot, hands down.

* * *

Things got back to normal. After.

Well, kinda.

"Dude, I was turned into a cat for _two_ days. I _missed_ my baby. I'm _driving _my baby."

Sam knew the rule: "Driver calls the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole." So Dean was surprised and yeah, _shocked _when Sam leaned over and switched the radio channel, right in the middle of AC/DC's _Bad Boy Boogie_:

_They said stop, I said go  
They said fast, I said slow  
They said yes, I said no  
I do the bad boy boogie_

to _Total Eclipse of the Heart_ by Air Supply:

_Turnaround, every now and then I get a  
little bit lonely and you're never coming around  
Turnaround, Every now and then I get a  
little bit tired of listening to the sound of my tears_

Dean's eyes narrowed, and Sam could swear Dean's ears laid flat against his head somehow.

Dean hissed, loud and long.

Sam couldn't turn the dial back fast enough.

* * *

Sam thought about putting the camera pics of Cat!Dean slurping milk from a bowl, or batting French fries around up on Facebook, or MySpace, or even Live Journal, but seeing as how they were both considered "persons of interest" by the FBI he decided not to.

That didn't stop Sam from sending copies of the pictures to Bobby Singer and Jo and Ellen Harvelle.

The next time the boys stopped by the Roadhouse Ellen served Dean a glass of milk instead of a beer. Jo sauntered up and said that she'd just scooped out the litter box, and she hoped Dean liked clay litter because that was all they had, little buddy.

Dean blushed. Ellen took a picture with her cell and sent Sam and Jo and Bobby a copy.

When Bobby Singer presented Dean with a ten pound bag of cat litter and told him to "have at it, big boy," Dean growled, low and dangerous.

Enough was enough. The joke had gotten _old_.

* * *

Three weeks later Sam and Dean were in Woodbury, New Jersey, of all places. They stood in the living room of one Maria Whitewolf Fallon, a practicing white witch who had, naturally, another amulet the boys needed for a barghast hunt. She was an older woman, rather plain. Thank God, there wasn't anything about her that would have pulled Dean's smart-ass trigger. He was overly polite, but it was obvious she was attracted to Sam.

Sam just stood there, all shy and awkward, as she handed the amulet to Dean and then slipped a yellow Post-It note with her phone number into Sam's hand.

Dean waited until they got outside. "Sammy! I'm proud of ya. When ya gonna call her?"

Sam frowned. "Like never." He balled up the Post-it and threw it onto the curb.

* * *

The next morning Sam barely flinched as the groom came in with a bucket of oats and filled his feed bag up. Sam stood there gently swishing his tail, savoring the taste, and it finally hit him seconds later.

He was a horse, of course.

_Turn me down, will you? _Maria Whitewolf Fallon's voice raged inside Sam's head. _Forty eight hours, Winchester. Forty eight hours on this stud farm as a gelding. Maybe that'll loosen you up, teach you some manners…_

* * *

Two minutes later, half a state away, Dean Winchester stood in the middle of his motel room and waited for Bobby Singer to pick up. Dean hummed the theme song to "Mr. Ed" while he waited.

Once he realized what had happened Dean immediately went to the diner next door, ordered a large black coffee and five uncooked carrots. The cook hesitated until Dean politely explained that his brother was a vegan and liked 'em plenty raw.

That twenty Dean flashed helped convince the dude even further.

As he strolled out with his coffee and carrots Dean stole that bowl of sugar cubes on the table nearest the door. Nobody saw a thing.

Maybe that wasn't the smartest thing to do, having a horse hyped up on all that sugar, but hell, it would have to do until Bobby got there.

Sammy the horse was getting kinda fractious, but he calmed down a little when Dean started running his fingers through his bangs. Dean supposed Sammy thought that was part of his mane. It was kinda creepy, because Sammy the horse kept trying to lip at Dean's fingers, but he quieted the hell down, so Dean concentrated on the ringing of the cell phone and ignored the slobber coating his fingers.

And Sam's tongue against his skin.

Dean hoped Bobby was home, or he'd pick up.

Right the hell _now_.

At one point Sammy stuck his tongue out and stood there, huffing. It took Dean a moment or so to realize that he was supposed to stroke Sammy's tongue with his hand.

"No way in hell am I doing that," Dean snarled roughly. "Dude, you'll take what you can get."

Sammy the horse snorted and idly pawed the worn carpet with his left foot.

It was gonna be a_ long_ day.

-30-

_**A/N:**_ That's it. I'm finished. I might continue this one later on, but for now, I can't even imagine how it would go. I have Meggin Lane to thank for the bit about Dean hissing at Sam in the Impala, and Phoebe for the suggestion of Gelding!Sam. If there's anyone else out there I should blame –I mean, _credit_-- drop me a line and please let me know. A big thank you to everyone who enjoyed this story, read and reviewed, or just lurked! I really do appreciate it.


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